Star Wars The New Jedi Order: Forgotten Alliance
by TheGanner
Summary: After the critical turning point at Ebaq 9, many systems decided to rejoin the Galactic Allaince. One, although, has been keeping its borders closed since the days of the Empire. This system's actions will shake the Yuuzhan Vong to the core.
1. Chapter 1

Intro: I wrote this because I felt a few supporting characters in NJO were being given little page time. This story takes place between Destiny's Way and the Force Heretic booksso reading these might help a little bit. This is my first story so feel free to criticize as much as you like, as long as its useful.

Disc: I own none of this stuff, besides the title, which I think is cool. Although it would be nice to own Star Wars.

Mon Calimari. The jewel in a necklace of planets. The world was one immense blue ocean, dotted by small outcroppings of land and enormous floating cities. One of these cities, the massive Heurkea, accommodated the Senate of the Galactic Alliance, which until recently had been the Galactic Republic. The reorganization of the government, led by Chief of State Cal Omas, was inaugurated by officially changing the name to something more fitting a galaxy-wide regime. A full scale constitutional adaptation was in progress, although recent celebrations had certainly not helped the project.

Less than a week had passed since the stunning victory at Ebaq 9, an obscure world in the deep core. Three Yuuzhan Vong fleets had been completely obliterated largely due to a misinformation campaign formulated by the newly created Jedi Council. The victory reversed a string of Yuuzhan Vong victories in which hundreds of planets had fallen victim to their disastrous methods, including pristine Ithor, rugged Dantooine, and most grievously, the capital planet of Coruscant, now renamed Yuuzhantar. Rumors had circulated that Ebaq had also cost the Yuuzhan Vong of the leader of their warrior caste, Warmaster Tsavong Lah. These reports had been corroborated by the removal of a majority of the Vong fleet in formerly Hutt Space, commanded by Nas Choka, who was suspected to be next in line to the title of warmaster. The celebrations were still going on as many worlds, which had withdrawn from the Republic during the calamitous last two years, petitioned for readmittance.

The spacelanes around Mon Calamari were choked with ships, both refugees and government officials. Although not as crowded as Coruscants had been, the amount of traffic had many native Mon Calimarians worried that the ships would cause harm to their precious natural ecosystem. Many of the ships were family of refugees, until recently unknowing whether or not their loved ones had survived in the chaos following the loss of Coruscant.

A ship materialized out of hyperspace and set off at a dangerously fast speed, sweeping right through a group of outbound ships and leaving a few of them tumbling in its wake, their captains coughing obscenities under their breath. It was clear from the first moment that this was no refugee ship. Its four engines, mounted two per wing, pushed it forward at a dangerous pace, slightly tumbling the larger ships, and flipping the smaller ones end over end. It resembled a giant wing, plated in a chrome silver, with a small extrusion toward the back which visibly held the cockpit. The doubts that this ships passengers were here for haven were silenced when four yellow small ships, each looking like a climbers pick with a large upward extrusion to the back, exited hyperspace and assembled in escort formation around the wing-ship. The ship and its escort flew through the line of a refugee convoy and angled toward the Capital.

"I really hate this job" thought Jarlen Storlis of the Heurkea Spaceport Authority. With the record number of ships going in and out, the veteran controller had precious little time for his family. The Quarren sighed. A ship, one which he couldnt recognize from the small screen, had just blown through a group of smaller ships, classified as refugees, and was apparently headed for the spaceport, although it had yet to contact the control center for landing instructions. AJust another idiot merchant ship he muttered as he reached for the scanner system board.

"Hey Storlis, is something up?" Darvin, his human coworker, had apparently noticed his skull tentacles start to fidget, a sign that he was nervous.

"Theres a yacht heading for the spaceport without clearance or an assigned dock"

"Damn. Too many of those these days. I think we should just start blasting them with the defensive cannons." She added, attempting to pantomime shooting down a starship while laughing at her own joke. Storlis just shook his head and turned back to the console.

He opened a channel to the ship. AUnidentified starship, this Jarlen Storlis of Heurkea Spaceport Control. If you intend to dock, you need to transmit your ship ID and cargo manifest to me for approval

The ships captain commed back "Transmitting manifest and ID now."

Jarlen ran the data through all the checks. The yacht was a Nubian J-type Starbarge, unarmed and perfectly clear. But, the ships escort were N1T Nubian design starfighters, and the armament on these well exceeded the legal limits for civilian craft of their size. However, they were listed as starfighters in the defense fleet of the planet of Naboo, which Jarlen had never heard of.

"He leaned back so he could see Darvin. AHave you ever heard of a planet, Naboo?" he asked.

Darvin thought for a second, then said "Sorry, Jarlen, never heard of it"

"Well theyre using Nubian-built ships"

"Nubian huh?" Darvin prided herself on her knowledge of shipbuilders, and tended to flaunt that knowledge to the point of annoyance. "Heard they built beautiful ships, but I didnt think they were still in buisness. Heard they were bought out sometime during the Emperors reign"

"Well I guess we just found out by who" Jarlen turned back to the comm board.

"Ok Captain, your data appears legitimate." He quickly scanned for an appropriate sized dock "You may proceed to sector 17 dock 42. Your escort however will need to remain in orbit. Military spacecraft are not allowed to dock in the spaceport"

There was silence on the comm, until a gruff older voice spoke "Port Control, this is Royal Navy Senior Admiral and diplomatic envoy Hevias Falachor." He spoke in a accent reminiscent of what Jarlen had seen on history vids of the Old Republic Senate. "My pilots are weary from the long journey and require rest. I hope, for the sake of any future alliance between my world and your government, you dont discourage my men"

Jarlen sat straight up in his chair. He had never had to deal with diplomats before. "A...Admiral Falachor" he stammered "Im s...sorry to sa...say that your es...escort must remain in orbit"

"My pilots deserve shore leave" Falachor returned "and they will have it. I hope the Republic doesnt show this little appreciation toward their own fighting men and women. Its in your best interests to find a suitable hanger near mine for my pilots to land in."

Jarlen was about to argue that Mon Calamari, or Dac, as his species called it, was most definitely civilized, when a light started to blink on his comm console, indicating an incoming message. He pressed the button and a gravelly Mon Calamari voice issued.

"Port Control, this is General Onieda of the Mon Calamari home defense squadron. Please explain why four armed starfighters are heading for the spaceport."

He quickly replied, still stammering from the conversation with the Admiral "Theyre p...part of an escort assigned to a diplomatic en...envoy who demands they accompany him to the surface, sir"

"Patch me through to them" The Mon Cal commanded. Jarlen followed the orders quickly and then noticed, for the first time, that all of the eyes in the spaceport control room were on him. The Generals voice issued from the speakers, as it was also doing on the bridge of the envoys ship.

"Diplomatic envoy, this is General Onieda of the Mon Calamari home defense fleet. You are in direct defiance of Mon Calamari Spaceport Authority. I demand that your starfighters return to orbit immediately. Continued defiance will result in a declaration of war against your system."

There was silence from the Naboo ship. Jarlen almost thought that the envoy was ignoring the Generals orders. Then the escort ships slowed, turned around and headed for space.

"My pilots are heading toward the nearest docking platform, where I hope youll let them refuel and take one of your shuttles down to the surface. I will be relaying this event to your Chief of State when I see him tomorrow, so you had better hope that hes more accommodating than you are" A click sounded from the comm board, signaling the ending of the transmission.

Jarlen turned, and was about to get up and retire to the nearest lounge for some relaxing caf when the gravelly Mon Cal voice issued once more from the speakers. "Port Officer Storlis, I expect you to go deliver a full report of this to the Dockmaster." Then his comm clicked off too.

"Yes, sir" Jarlen stated into empty space. He noticed that everyone had returned to their normal duties. He headed towards the dockmasters office. "Looks like Ill be doing overtime again" he thought to himself "I really hate this job"

I'll be uploading Chapter 2 soon, itll be about Cal Omas


	2. Chapter 2

Cal Omas, Chief of State, walked slowly into his office. His day had been spent arguing about the new constitution. The fifty-man committee could barely agree on anything, making the already immense process of rehauling the government that much harder. Todays dispute had revolved around the method of representation in the new senate. The debate had revolved around whether representation would be by system or sector. Celch Dravvad of Corellia had argued vehemently for representation by system, due to the Corellian Sectors large amount of them. Councilor Triebakk of Kashykk, on the other hand spoken in favor of representation by sector, since his sector was marked by uninhabited systems.

Omas himself thought the whole point was moot. The Senate would, for a while at least, be sparse at best with as many planets as there were unaccounted for and senators either staying home or missing.

"Or dead" he stated to noone in particular, thinking of Borsk Feylya, whos position he now held, and Feylyas newfound heroism from his valiant final sacrifice, in which he had chosen to remain on captured Coruscant and annihilated an entire platoon of Vong troops with a proton bomb hidden under the former Senatorial headquarters on Coruscant.

"Oh well" he said aloud to himself "Were politicians. Without anything to argue about, why would we be here?"

He passed his secretary, Alenar Fash, who was very efficient and had been on his staff when he was an up and coming senator for the displaced Alderaanian refugees. She looked up and gave him a warm smile.

"How did the constitutional council go?" she inquired.

He just smiled back, sighed, and headed for his private office.

"Just like the last four days then" she said with a chuckle. "Well, only one more meeting today"

Omas stopped. He had not remembered another meeting, although the council tended to make him ignore everything else to the point of forgetting it all. Two days ago, he had completely forgotten about a meeting of the Jedi Council he was supposed to attend and went home to rest. Luckily Luke Skywalker had forgiven him. But he had no recollection of a meeting now.

"Its a diplomatic envoy from the planet Naboo," Fash said, holding out a datacard "Here. Ive compiled a summary of all the information in our databanks on them. Im sorry to say its very sparse. They were never a member of the New Republic"

He took the datacard out of her hand. "When will they be showing?" He asked.

"The meetings scheduled to start in forty minutes" she said "More than enough time for you to review that information and get a relaxing cup of caf"

"Thank you," Omas opened the door to his office "But, if these council meetings keep being this unproductive and tiring, Im going to start needing something stronger than caf"

He closed the door to the sound of her laughter and sat down in his chair, which was the only item he had been able to save from his office on Coruscant, and was made from wood from the forests of Alderaan.

He inserted the card into his datapad and opened the files. Alenar had outdone herself, arranging the data into the neat categories of history, culture, customs, and renowned citizens.

"Dammit Alenar, where would I be without you?" he stated as he opened the history file.

Naboos earliest colonists had arrived fleeing a revolution on the planet Grizmalt in 3900 BBY, and had taken the natives word for _Plainsfolk_ as their planets official moniker. They had started clashing with the native Gungans, apparently amphibious humanoids, and started an era of mutual distrust between the two.

Alenar delivered his caf, and he scrolled down towards more recent history. Around fifty years ago, the planet had been the victim of a blockade initiated by the Trade Federation.

Which had been officially disbanded by the Emperor early in his reign, Cal remembered. Some accident had befallen the Executives of the corporation, leading to their eventual assimilation into the Galactic Empire. It was assumed that since the Trade Federation had supported

Apparently they never received any support from the Republic and settled the matter with their own militia. He noticed that after that, their Senator, named Amidala, had been a forceful opponent of the Clone Wars, until her suspicious death near the end of the conflict. After that the Naboo had withdrawn from public affairs, choosing not to elect another senator and closing their borders.

Omas frowned, the records stopped there. Apparently no news had come from Naboo for over fifty years.

He quickly breezed through the next two categories, noting the Naboo tradition of a monarchy, which he noticed had become an elected office. He also made sure to look at their demeanor, noticing that most Naboo were generally respectful and slightly archaic in their customs.

He went back to the main screen. "I hope fifty year old information is still valid" he thought. "I wonder why such a secluded sector is now making their first bids for recognition"

He shrugged "Im sure Ill find out soon enough" He opened up the last file on the datacard.

What appeared made him jump out of his seat, spilling his caf all over his desk. The first thing to appear on the datapad had been a image of someone recognizable to all residents of the known galaxy, and probably a majority of the unknown portions of it, a face every children learned about in school, and quickly associated with some of the worst crimes in recent history.

Staring up at Cal Omas with piercing eyes was the scarred visage of Emperor Palpatine.

The burly figure of Senior Admiral and diplomatic envoy Hevias Falachor stalked though the Senatorial Hallways, which until recently had been Mon Calamaris most popular resort hotel. Accompanying him was a women who was dressed in regal garb, possibly an aide, and four men dressed in black jumpsuits. These were obviously Falachors bodyguards, due to their lithe frames and darting, inquisitive faces.

Unlike his guards, who were quick to look at any disturbance, Falachor faced straight forward and never seemed to take any notice of any disruption. He was dressed in a bright purple vest and dress pants, topped off with a flowing cape. His regal demeanor was accentuated by the carefully combed black mustache and goatee which seemed to pull his mouth into a perpetual frown. He walked in a manner that suggested aristocracy, with his hands behind his back and chin up.

The entourage made its way down the hallway containing the Senatorial offices, scattering groups of staffworkers and the occasional cleaning droid. Soon they reached the apartment that Omas secretary had provided them. An armed guard stood outside.

Falachor was the first to speak. "I have a meeting with your Cal Omas, if you would be generous enough to step aside." He addressed the guard without ever looking in his direction, as if he felt the guard wasnt important enough to warrant his gaze.

"One moment sir" The guard answered, his hand stiffening near his blaster pistol on his hip, even though he knew that if he tried to draw, the mans bodyguards would be on him before he could fire. Fortunately, the door to the Chief of States office could only be opened from the inside, and any conflict within the Senatorial apartments would draw the military police instantly.

"Im going to need an ID" the guard stated

"Hmph" Falachor snorted, handing over a datacard.

The guard pulled out his scanner, ran the card through, and pulled out his comlink. "We have a diplomatic envoy from the planet Naboo here to see the Chief of State he commed to the inner secretary. His paperwork checks out"

"Hes expected, let him in" was the reply.

"Ok sir, youre free to enter, but your bodyguards must stray out here and must leave all weapons with me" Falachor grumbled. "Do you allow no protection on this forsaken ball of water?" Nonetheless, he reached into his vest and pulled out a nasty looking blaster pistol and handed it, barrel first, to the guard, still making sure to avoid looking him in the eye.

The guard took the weapon and with one last look of resentment, pressed the all-clear button on his comlink.

Inside the room, the Alenar Fash got the message and pressed a button on her desk. The door slid open, and Falachor entered. Without saying a word he walked through the outer office and opened the door to the Chief of States official office.


	3. Chapter 3

Be warned, part of this chapter is basically ripped from Force Heretic: Remnant, because i thought the setting for it was ridiculous there. Other than that, enjoy!

"Nas Choka! The Blade of the Gods! Arise!"

As Shimmra, Supreme Overlord of the Yuuzhan Vong pronounced these words in the ancient language, Nas Choka, new Warmaster of the Yuuzhan Vong fleets, stood. The grueling ritual of sacrifice he had just partook was finally over. He had been granted new shoulder implants to hold the living cloak that was the mark of the Warmaster as well as a Tsaisi, the shorter, baton-like breed of amphistaff reserved for the highest leaders of the warrior caste.

"_do-ro'ik vong pratte!"_ Chokas shout echoed across the ceremonial room, in the bowels of Shimmras citadel on recently captures Coruscant, now Yuuzhan'tar. Meaning "Woe to our enemies," it was the battle cry of every Yuuzhan Vong warrior. Choka followed it with "Long live Shimmra, beloved of the Gods!"

"_Ai' tanna Shimrra khotte Yun'o!"_

At that same time, a worried looking Yuuzhan Vong ducked into an alleyway in what used to be the section of Coruscant known as The Works, and had been a hotbed of criminal activities in its day. He moved like one shamed, but he was void of any physical deformities. In fact, besides an odd looking eyeball, he seemed to be mostly free of any of the scars or implants that designated Yuuzhan Vong at all. Until recently, he had been a prefect in the intendant caste, and one of the most famous Yuuzhan Vong in the galaxy. Now, after indirectly causing the loss of millions of troops and war material at Ebaq 9, he had been expected, no, required, to present himself for sacrifice to the Gods. But, Nom Anor never had believed much in the Gods. He had killed his superior, High Prefect Yoog Skell, and escaped the Sacred Precinct, which stood where the seat of the Republic government had before it fell. He had made his way into a section of the planet where the worldshaping had yet to fully embrace, leaving many areas still the hard and cold metal of the planet's former masters. Nom Anor took a second to glance up at the sky and curse Shimmra and everyone who had caused him to fall this far, then quickly moved off into a shade of trees nestled in between what had once been office buildings.

On the bridge of _Yammka's Mount_, flagship of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet, Nas Choka addressed his Supreme Commanders.

"With the exception of Commander Vorrik, who at this moment is en route to finally clease the so-called Imperial Remnant, the main goal of the fleets will be to consolidate what we have and try to group our forces closer. My predecessor's exploits have left our fleets stretched thin, focusing too much effort..."

At this point he was cut off by Supreme Commander Maal domain Lah, the youngest Supreme Commander present, and from the same domain as Choka's predecessor Tsavong Lah. "The great Tsavong Lah destroyed the foundation of the _infeedel_ New Republic and captured us glorious Yuuzhan'tar,"

"That he did, but he also lost us millions of troops and ships, and his obsession with the _Jeedai_ drew him into many battles where he was overmatched. At Ebaq, he surrendered his forces for destruction, to this supposedly foundation-less New Republic, to chase after a handful of these so-called warriors, and he still managed to fail in the process!"

Maal lahstarted to respond, but Choka continued.

"Tsavong domain Lah's faith and fanaticism kept him from seeing the larger goal, that of winning battles! If all out fleets dive into battle with only the thought of self-enlightenment and _jeedai_ guiding them, we will lose all we have accomplished so far!" Choka straightened himself. "This is precisely the reason I have called you here today. If our glorious fleets are to ever defeat these insolent infidels, we must show more restraint and understanding of the enemy"

"Are you suggesting we turn and run like the cowardly infidels themselves?" asked Thorkra domain Lah, a veteran commander who had orchestrated the capture of Bimmiel and the pacification of Gyndine.

"No, I _demand_, that we start to realize that our resources are not limitless. The fleets can no longer afford to rush headlong into the fray with no thought to strategy besides fighting to the last. We must comprehend that that the greater glory will belong to those who are alive to see every infidel in this galaxy brought to see the glory of Yun'Yuuzhan, or crushed under our might. Return to your fleets, and remember that Yun-Yammka exalts only the victorious"

As the commanders made their way towards the docking arm of _Yammka's Mount_, the two who had questioned the Warmaster's decision waited until the others had moved on, then turned to each other.

"He intends to turn us all into… into _shamed ones_" declared Thorkra Val. "I would sooner sacrifice myself to the Gods than obey this blasphemous order" He pulled out his _coufee _as if he was going to cut himself open right then and there, then he seemed to think better of it and resheathed it.

He turned to Maal Lah "A Lah has been warmaster since before the days of this invasion, why now must we fall under the command of this honorless _Ngdin_ who would have us give up what makes us warriors? We should be in command of the fleets, not this blasphemous _heretic_!"

"Calm down" snarled Maal Lah. "As right as you are, rushing back there and demanding a duel is not the correct path. It would shame our domain even more to show our disagreement with our new warmaster."

Thorkra slammed his fist into the mushy membrane of the wall "Then what is to happen, Maal Lah? Are we to sit blindly in the shadows as the warriors slowly become the infidels ourselves?"

"No, I said that we could not publicly show our disagreement, but if Nas Choka was to have an accident," He said the word with a strange glint in his eye and a wicked grin "One of us might be in the perfect position to take over."

Thorkra's head snapped up to look at Maal Lah. "You're beginning to sound a lot like a intendant, Maal Lah, warriors do not operate in the shadows. Yun-Yammka's glory should be in the light for all to see and fear"

"I beg to differ, Thorkra Val, was it not hiding in the shadows of infidel ships that won us Coruscant? The shadows are the paradise of the warrior, where one can make his plans without being under the inspection of his enemy." Maal Lah gave Thorkra a sharp glance as he heard the footsteps of marching warriors approaching.

"Gather your most loyal, strongest fighters. We will discuss this matter later" he whispered

Thorkra nodded, and the two commanders sauntered off in the direction of the docking arm.


End file.
